


Christmas Tree Sprinkles

by e_cat



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, as always I made up the title out of nowhere, oh well; maybe some of it's okay, quite possibly terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_cat/pseuds/e_cat
Summary: In a world where Neil hides in Germany instead of Arizona, Andrew also moves to Germany, with Nicky, who is starting a coffee shop with Erik.





	Christmas Tree Sprinkles

**Author's Note:**

> AFTG Exchange fic for @one-eyed-kaneki-kun

Over the years, Neil had learned many lessons on how not to be noticeable. People with darker, plainer hair colors were less likely to be noticed than, say, people with their hair dyed neon electric orange. More people noticed your eyes if they were complemented by something else on your person – say, a dark blue sweater to match the colored contacts in your eyes. People noticed you if your clothes were memorable, say if there was something like an upside-down snowman on that blue sweater because you messed up when you were ironing it on.

But more important than any of that: routine was the enemy of the inconspicuous man. Routine made people remember you, let them pick up on the extra little details, made them curious for more. Routine led to people saying, “Oh, you know, that actually sounds kind of like this one guy. He comes in every day at two.”

So, perhaps Neil’s life right now could be best described as “reckless” or “self-destructive,” but there was something to be said for conspicuousness. Would his father’s men ever get a glance at this poorly-disguised Neil and truly believe it was him? And in Germany! Neil hadn’t been foolish enough to nestle in a city with ties to his father’s business, but he did still remember that unfortunate run-in six years ago, in a town just a few hours away. They wouldn’t expect to find him in Germany.

And, besides that, Neil _liked_ going to the coffee shop on the corner every day. He argued to himself that he liked the vantage point and the gossip it provided – a warning system for new visitors in a town just small enough to notice them. Truthfully, Neil was finding himself more and more intrigued by the people of the coffee shop (he would say “employees,” but the only thing Andrew did behind the counter was get himself donuts).

Slowly but surely, Neil found himself growing attached to the concept of family as defined by the people of the coffee shop. The place was owned by Nicky and Erik, a story that Nicky liked to say began when he was supporting his twin cousins through high school in the US. Apparently, one of the jobs Nicky had taken was in a coffee shop, where he’d quickly decided that he could do things much better, and had spent the following years talking Erik into opening this shop when he returned to Germany. This part Erik, his fiancé, liked to smile and shake his head at, and sometimes point out that he was doing all the business parts of running this business.

Still, things were going pretty well for Nicky and Erik and their coffee shop. In fact, despite of the odds against them before, Nicky and his family were all doing well. After high school, Nicky liked to tell people, his cousin Aaron had started college – pre-med – and now had a girlfriend in the program. He was, by all appearances, very well-adjusted and on his way to becoming a productive member of society.

On the other hand, Andrew had tagged along with Nicky to Germany (“On a _boat_!” Nicky would complain. “I didn’t even know they took those across the ocean anymore!”), and all Neil had ever seen him do was hang around the coffee shop and eat into the profit margin with free donuts. To be fair, the coffee shop was the only place Neil had seen him, but Andrew had not exactly been forthcoming with information on what he did otherwise.

Today, however, Neil thought would be a good day to get answers. He’d sat with Andrew a few times before, first because the shop was strangely crowded one afternoon (a promotional event of some sort), and then, slowly, because he wanted to. Andrew, when he bothered to reply, gave good conversation. There was a lot more built into Andrew than was immediately visible, and while Neil _had_ been trained to guard his secrets, he found that he didn’t mind spilling them in exchange for some of Andrew’s.

Still, even with the information Andrew had shared about his life leading up to moving to Germany with Nicky, in some ways, it felt like Neil knew Andrew’s past better than he knew Andrew. In the other direction, it was perhaps the opposite: Neil spoke plenty (too much) about his life now, his shifts at the bookstore down the street and the issues with the radiator in his cheap apartment, but as many details as he gave Andrew about his life before here, he changed even more. And along with everyone else here, Andrew had been informed that Neil was originally from France.

Still, Neil understood that there were secrets of necessity, and there were secrets of missed opportunity. Sometimes, words were only waiting for a chance to be spoken. That was what it felt like for Neil, at least – Andrew, in his patient, passive way, had finally given Neil what he’d never realized he’d wanted: someone to talk to. It was unbearable to think that he couldn’t do the same.

Andrew’s eyebrow lifted perhaps an eighth of an inch as Neil sat down across from him with a paper bag and two cups in a beverage tray. It stayed there as Neil slid the bag and one of the cups across the table and said, “Feeling festive?”

Andrew’s face answered that question in the unequivocal negative. He did, however, go to the trouble of pulling the red-frosting-and-Christmas-tree-sprinkles donut from the paper bag and taking an enormous bite. “The cup is hot chocolate,” Neil added, while Andrew deemed the donut worthy of being eaten more slowly. Frankly, that was a bit of relief, since he usually went for the double-chocolate or jelly-filled donuts. Neil had wanted to give him something more memorable.

For a long minute, Andrew didn’t bother with his voice. He removed the lid from his hot chocolate and slid his fingernail around the rim until he found an imperfection in the plastic, which he used to begin tearing the lid into tiny pieces. Finally, casually, he said, “We are being watched.”

The words set off a tripping beat in Neil’s heart, and he was half out of his seat, scanning the café well before his brain could catch up. Then he caught sight of Erik behind the counter.

Neil tried to relax back into his seat slowly, but it was clear that his anxiety had been noticed. Perhaps it had been subtle enough to escape Erik’s attention, but Andrew was leaned forward in his seat. “Oh, could someone be in hiding?” he hissed.

Neil stared back unflinching. Andrew knew already that Neil had no contact with his past, that he had disguised the shade of his eyes, that his name was a fake. It wasn’t a far leap to figure out that not only had he run away, but he was being chased. This may have been the first time it was said out loud, but it hadn’t been held secret before.

So, instead of responding to Andrew’s accusation, Neil said, “There’s always an audience when one of us doesn’t work behind the counter.”

Andrew recognized this immediately as a challenge, an invitation. He replied, “I have never found a book worth my attention.”

Neil grinned. He wasn’t exactly suggesting that Andrew come by the bookstore to read, but it was too tempting a hint for Neil not to guess, “You find them too easy to predict?” Andrew gestured that that was as good an explanation as any, and Neil leaned closer across the table. “Do you find me easy to predict?”

Andrew’s eyes were unforgiving. “I’m sure you will be.”

“Huh,” Neil said, “you think so?” He tapped twice, thoughtfully, on the side of Andrew’s cup. “You’ll have to let me know when that happens.”

Andrew took the cup away from Neil and pushed out of the booth. From beside the table, he asked, “What time do you want your coffee tomorrow?”

Neil tried not to gloat. “I’d say around 2:30,” he decided.

“Fine,” Andrew said, and then he disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving behind his torn-up cup lid and the trash from his donut. Neil didn’t mind; he was too busy trying to keep the euphoria from overtaking him.


End file.
